


Between his life and mine

by InaRov



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Clasism, Fluff and Angst, Islamophobia, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InaRov/pseuds/InaRov
Summary: There was nothing in the world that Zayn loved more than Harry, because he had been everything he ever dreamed of; flapping his eyelashes and loving him so much to the point of giving him a baby. However, love is not always enough.****Or, Zayn facing different kinds of racism to be with Harry.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Between his life and mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I writte something in English, so there will probably be a lot of spelling and grammatical errors ;-;  
> Also, this is a translation of a previous work of mine.

Like many things in life, the family economic position was not something that came in convenience or was easily accepted in life, and it was something Zayn had had to deal with over the years; so as he matured, accept that his position in the world was no more important than the person sitting next to him on the bus.  
He was grateful to be alive and to have a family that loved him no matter what, but he found it difficult to walk down the street with his head constantly crouched down by the taunts he received from his schoolmates. First because of his religion, then because of his color, and eventually traces of bullying ceased, mostly because he grew up as someone they used to refer to as "beautiful"; the constant taunts and jokes had been changed by letters from secret admirers and constant invitations to the parties of popular people, who did not even care if he spoke or not, only interested in him to attend, to look mysterious and unapproachable in the house of any person. He did not care, not really.  
It was ok to grow up being the bad boy, the most desired; felt good going to work with their parents to the market after school and kiss someone in the middle of those two activities. But when high school was over, he had to decide whether to keep helping at home or going to college; so, he had a 50% scholarship to attend a university in Manchester and study to be someone versed in his language. However, after four years in the race, about to finish, he had to give up everything to return home to take care of his father who had suffered an accident that resulted in loss of the mobility in his legs.  
So, there he was standing in life: back to the fruit and vegetable stand at the local Westbury market. Taking care of the family economy while her three sisters, two older ones and a younger one, made their lives. One studying a master's degree in some science he always forgot, another about to have a baby with her newly acquired husband, while the youngest was still in high school, traing to be someone in life, and if he wanted to help in something, he had to stay in the store, at the market, and that was fine.  
But his life had improved markedly when he met Harry Styles, the sweet boy who worked in the bakery some streets away from the market, and after beating his eyelashes for a few minutes, managed to get Zayn to feel his body on the edge of the abyss; first the inevitable desire, and then the affection that grew like weed inside him, occupying every tiny corner in of his heart until it exploded. Then he knew that there would be no one who could come to love more than that curlyone, that man who flirted indiscriminately.  
With time taken place, Zayn discovered that the one who at the time was his partner, was not a simple employee in the bakery some streets away of the market that liked ridiculously expensive clothes, but came from an immensely wealthy family, so much that he owned extensive grounds in the Countryside, as well as a huge castle, which Harry constantly said was just a great house, until he was proved for himself that his beloved boyfriend lied.  
It was just a little smaller than Highclere Castle. However, the only good thing about all that matter was that the Styles family had bought, and did not inherit, that it was Zayn's greatest fear, but the problem he was still on, and for which he was unprepared, was the economic issue with which Mr. Walker would begin to attack him over dinner at his first meeting.

"What does your family do, Zayn? Are you doing something interesting in Westbury?”  
"We're salesmen, we have a little place at the market, sir," Zayn was sure he'd make a fool of himself, but Harry's comfortable hand on his gave him confidence to jump into the void.  
"What kind of place?  
"We sell fruits and vegetables, sir.”  
"Do you have good workers?”

Zayn had to breathe very deep before daring to look up from the plate.

"You're not understanding me, Mr. Walker. I work as a salesman in a market stall that my family rents; selling fruits and vegetables.”

And that had been enough for the great Mr. Walker, an American billionaire, to spit the wine on the table, and, apparently, to disapprove of the relationship he was in with his stepson.  
Zayn had felt awfully bad about it, but Harry was sure where they were standing, that he loved the brunette and nothing on the face of the earth could make him stop loving him. So the months followed in their relationship, always with the constant concern that Mr. Walker would use his great influences to stop his boyfriend from visiting while the lips of Anne, Harry's mother, became more of a line or a grimaces every time they saw him, so they spent most of their time in public places or at Zayn's house , while visiting the lords, after all, they were still part of their partner's life.  
He used to accompany his boyfriend to the fancy dinners his parents gave during certain dates, and even during the new year he accompanied him with all the important people, all while Harry wore extravagant costumes full of incomprehensible patterns, meanwhile he wore second-hand ssuits from home and the rented fracs; and, as he used to mock the ridiculous colors in Harry’s clothes, he used to mock the “dress” he used to go to the mosque on Fridays, but he said it was just a silly game.

"Although I prefer your skinny jeans; they help the little ass you've got.”

Harry knew how to keep him quiet, how to take him to the precipice before returning him to earth in matters of lust, and, much more important to Zayn, he didn't seem to care about his religion or skin color beyond his constant need for attention on weekends, which were his days off at the bakery.  
And, as natural in life, at some point in their relationship, after three years of it, Harry had come running to Zayn’s room one Sunday morning with tearful eyes and a yellow envelope on his hands. Zayn held him in his arms as soon as he had him around, kissing his head to reassure his boyfriend's erratic breath.

"Harry, what's going on?” The curly one was still with his face hidden. “Honey, I won't know how to help you if you don't tell me what's going on.”  
"It's... good news and bad news...”  
"Are you all right?”  
"You have to promise you won't go mad.”  
"Harry, you burned my diary because you were afraid I'd find you reading it, and all that happened was that you singned my frown with kisses. I'm sure this can't be anything worse than burning something really important to me, or is it so bad? Is your family okay?”

Harry wiped away his tears before opening the yellow envelope; inside came various photographs of ultrasounds with his boyfriend's name engraved on the top left side. He immediately covered his mouth before starting to cry.

"The doctor says I'm 12 weeks old and... this little dot here is our baby.”

Zayn hugged Harry very tightly, letting the cry filled his whole face until feel he couldn't cry anymore; by that time, they were both hugged on the bed.

"It was tears of happiness, wasn't it?” Harry's eyes reflected doubt as he spoke. “Because I don't know what I'm supposed to do if you don't want to... if you don't want the baby.”  
"No," he said bluntly, so Harry walked away from him. “Harry, no, of course I want it; by Allah, of course I want to have this with you.”  
"Don't say "this". It's a baby; it's the size of a small bean... is our little Beani.”  
"So his name will be Beani? No, never, over my dead body” that made the curly laugh. “But no, we can't call it that, not yet; after three months, then, then we can start talking about this. And no more sex, that would be risky, I don't want” Zayn sob his nose “I don't want anything bad to happen to you, neither you nor” his boyfriend's look made him think the words “or Beani...”  
"Are you sure about this? Because... If you want, we can think about... you know; We're still young and starting a family is hard” Harry was shaking in his arms. “We can go to the doctor and get Beani out of me.”  
"Don't say that, Harry, don't think about it," Zayn kiss his lips gently “or don't you want this? "Doubt assaulted him for a second, he hadn't stopped to think of his boyfriend. “It's okay if you want to postpone this, or not have a baby at all, we could look for options or... Harry, it's your body, it's your decision, and whatever you want, I'll support you. I swear.”

Harry kissed him with great passion and asked him to hold him in his arms, because he loved him, because he was afraid, but above all because he felt his heart come out of his mouth every time he thought of the little baby growing inside.

"I want the baby, Zayn... I've always wanted one, and you're perfect, I can't think of anyone else to do this with... I... I love you.”

Despite the statement proposed by Zayn, they ended up having sex.  
With the days gone, Zayn wondered what fate would bring him once the little baby was in the world and not just inside his boyfriend. He was often fantasizing about a small house in Yorkshire, with enough garden for his children to grow up while he worked at a local school, always returning home on time to kiss Harry and make love to him, play with the children, maybe not necessarily in that order; though in his fantasies the recurring image of Harry was like his husband.  
When four months of gestation passed, Harry had come home with a new image of the baby to show Zayn's parents, who were glad to hear the news of a little person on the way, as well as the brunette's sisters. They congratulated both, Whiliya asking to speak to Harry in private to give him maternity advice.  
After a week of those congratulations, Harry had convinced him to go home to break the news to his parents, which Zayn reluctantly accepted after a long sermon from his boyfriend on how the sacrifices had to be reciprocal in their relationship, even if it meant that he had to endure the looks of disapproval and disappointment from James Walker and Ane Cox. But, he loved Harry, so on Friday afternoon he skipped the usual trip to the mosque to go to the castle where the curly lived to find his parents.  
They didn't spend ten seconds at the door before Charles Gran opened to let them through to the tearoom, where the house lords shared the snack peacefully. Instead, to everything Zayn could imagine, his boyfriend's parents invited them with smiles to have tea with them.

"It's been a long time since you came here, Zayn, we thought your relationship was over” Anne spoke steadily while drinking from her cup.  
"I've been very busy, Mrs. Cox.”  
"Something very important not to visit your boyfriend's parents?” Mr. Walker spoke without taking off the eyes of his own.  
“I registered the papers to present the thesis in July.”  
"That's a very good thing, but I remember you once said you'd dropped out of school to help your family.”  
"That's right, but something important happened and I think this is a good way to project myself into the future.”  
"I suppose it must be very important if you came here after months without doing it.”

James put the tea aside to look at him with an honest smile, as well as a curious look watching over his stepson. Harry, by his side, took him by the hand in such a way that they could see how happy he was.

"Dad, Mom... we're expecting a baby.”

Mr. Walker get up suddenly to surround the table, which Zayn feared might end in a punch straight to his face, but, to his surprise, he took Harry in his arms, then turned and shook hands with him. Anne, for her part, dried up invisible tears while holding her son's hand among her own.  
They spoke for a long time, so they were transferred to the library with glasses of whiskey to celebrate the good news. The words came and went between those three people who would be constant in their lives; he could see his in-laws in the distant future, visiting his grandson in that small house he had fantasized so much about since Harry broke the news of the baby. He thought of asking him to marry him as soon as he had enough money to buy a ring; he knew it had to wait until at least after the baby was born to hold the wedding, because Harry would surely want to marry in a fitted suit with exotic prints that would make him look very round if they did so while pregnant, and, the second ceremony in the shalwar kameezsuits, he would notice his stomach even more bloated. He had to think of a good place to get the suits, because in Manchester there was a shop that made them custom thanks to a tailor who came from India, so his boyfriend could go crazy with the colors and ornaments; could see him wearing red, his hands full of senders and covered in jewels so that his love would prosper for the rest of their lives.  
Zayn's dream was so great that he barely noticed when Mr. Walker looked at him intensely; Harry was squeezing his arm too hard, like when he was nervous about something.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking of something else.”  
"It's okay, having a baby is something important and all that” James was talking, not blinking. “But I hope you can consider our offer.”  
"Offer?” He felt Harry increase the strength in his grip, handing over his fingernails. When Zayn turned around, his boyfriend's eyes seemed to want to get out of his face.  
"Thank you, James... Father; we'll consider staying here.”  
"Oh Harry, someday this will be yours, so the most natural thing is for you to come live here.”

Zayn blinked slowly, assimilating what was going on around him, so, after a few minutes, when the subject re-emerged, and Harry looked at him with supplicant eyes, he has no choice but to agree to live in the castle.  
The move followed to the proposal took two weeks to make, as his parents seemed sad to see his only son leave to make his life, even when he promised to visit them on weekends and continue working in the store, but in mentioning that, they appeared even more melancholy, so Harry stepped in saying that, if Zayn did not visit them, they were more than welcome in the huge castle, they had lot of rooms. A couple of days after that, his father mentioned that they would sell the big house to look for a small apartment more central, close to the market, since they did not want to rely so much on him to take care of the local and the rooms of his older sisters, as well as his, were no longer of much use to Safa. The new place arrived a few weeks later, from where he received an old-fashioned postcard just to let him know the address.  
In the castle, the room in which he was accommodated had a huge bed, where well could sleep five people without problem, but he knew that just would occupy a small part, because his boyfriend loved to hug him in his sleep.. The place was decorated with some Renaissance paintings and silver things; there was enough space in the closet to store his clothes as Harry kept his in a special place, because he sometimes relied on a man named Elian Smith, who helped him choose his clothes and also dress him.  
Zayn was assigned a valet of his own, a young man, a few years older than him, named Bartolomé Carmichael, who smiled too much and made Harry constantly jealous because that man was good-looking; blond, tall, a pure spirit and eyes so dark that they looked like black holes. Outside of him, he struggled to adapt to the new life that enclosed him in the huge castle, with all the servants and the constant evenings with nothing to do gave him mixed feelings about his life.  
During the mornings he worked at the market, on weekends he tried to attend the mosque if nothing important happened in the castle. Some days he met his parents, and, on more than one occasion, he had tried to take them shopping for the baby's things, but found the discomfort reflected in their faces when Anne and James took them to stores where the cost of things far exceeded what they could afford to pay. He felt engrossed those times, as Harry moved floating among things, as if that were his natural environment, and he stayed in one place, giving his opinion on some things without really helping to look.  
The gap he felt when he was near Harry grew when he was with him shopping, not only because of the baby's things, but also because of the clothes he wore, so expensive, bought in upscale stores, and he kept wearing the same clothes as when he lived with his parents. He soon realized that his closet had been filled "as a gift" by James.  
When five and a half months of pregnancy were at the door, Harry’s parents accompanied them to the doctor's appointment, who as soon asked the question about whether they wanted to know sex jumped with emotion to say yes, while he squeezed her boyfriend's hand to convince him that it should be a surprise and so it would be more special. The fight was lost a few minutes later when his boyfriend told him that he also wanted to know. Before arriving at the car, the three characters next to him had already decided on the baby's name.

"Zayn, it's going to be called Daisy, like the flower, you know I love that flower.”

So he could only smile and nod before being run to a girls' shop to buy what felt like the whole store in blue, yellow and lilac, very despite his desires for pink things. He felt displaced by everyone in decisions.  
A few days later, Harry complained about the swelling of his feet while eating a fruitcake.

"Harry, do your parents despise me for the religion I profess?” Zayn stroked his boyfriend's legs as he spoke.  
"Of course not, silly. Why do you say that?” Harry left the dish aside to hug him half-sided; the belly was extremely uncomfortable.  
"Then they only hate me because of my economic position, don't they?”

Harry took him by the face to look him straight in the eyes; the concentration in his gaze was huge, intimidating.

“What does it matter if you are a Muslim, a Buddhist, an atheist, or a Christian? What difference does it make me care?”  
"Harry, I know you don't mind all this," he pointed out his whole body, "but your parents are someone different from you. I've seen how they see me when I go to the mosque.”  
"I don't care; Zayn, you can pray to a toad and I still wouldn't mind, I love you and that's never going to change.”  
"Even if I want Daisy to be part of Islam?”  
"Dummy" Harry knew how to soothe him, he hugged him completely, like a koala as he spread kisses all over Zayn's body. “Of course she can be part of Islam, it doesn't matter, I don't care. You know religion isn't important to me.”  
"But it is for me.”  
"I know," Harry kissed him. “Daisy will inherit your religion.”

Zayn was overwhelmed; could not love his boyfriend any more, even if he wanted to. Every penny he earned at the market, which didn't go to his parents or destined for his daughter, he saved for the ring he wanted for Harry. He had already seen it, it was worth a lot of money, but was sure he could afford it after the three years of relationship: white gold, a diamond, from Tiffany; the blue box that the curly wanted since forever.

As his boyfriend's belly grew, Zayn had given himself the task of giving the final touches to his thesis, so the day he presented the exam, he could not bear the knot he felt in the heart when saw Harry sitting in the front row, with a huge flower arrangement poorly hidden behind his feet. He wasn't sure that the tears of the curly were entirely from happiness when he received his title, as the hormones made him more sentimental than his soft self used to be.  
In less than a flicker, the little baby had come into the world screaming and kicking in the huge castle, as they wanted her birth to be something special, traditional. Zayn had spent all day in the gardens smoking despite the october cold, as his spirit seemed to want to get out of his body while he waited more and more, but, seeing Daisy's tiny body, all the weight he carried on the shoulders remained on the floor.

"Zayn...," Harry was completely sweaty, his face red, talking almost as he fell asleep. “Zayn, isn't she beautiful? Like the flower.”  
"Yes, yes. So beautiful.”

Zayn took the baby in his arms as Harry glided into bed to have a more comfortable position. As soon as he held her in his arms, he began to pray in Urdu part of the Qur'aan, so that his daughter would be accepted by Allah.  
Daisy was small, barely with a shred of hair on her head; the whole body was red and his eyes had not opened despite the weeping since he came into the world. Zayn held her in his arms for a long time, or at least until the doctor arrived and told him that he should leave so Harry and his daughter could rest.  
Three days later, Zayn return to the room he used to share with Harry, but was surprised to discover that her daughter wasn't there. He hadn't seen her since she was born, and apparently Harry only saw her when he had to feed her; all without the slightest hassle. He realized in the same way that the curly boy constantly shoved him away from his body every time he wanted to touch or kiss him, as he said the pain was a lot, so he believed him. Zayn could never understand the pain he went through to push an infant into the world, but he wanted to think he was sensible enough to understand his partner's needs, or at least for a while.  
With the weeks going on, Zayn became increasingly uncomfortable being in the great castle; anxiety itching. He only saw Daisy during certain hours of the day, as the rest of the time a nanny took care of her, and, on those sneaky occasions, the time where shared whit Harry, who hoarded the baby altogether. The time he wasn't with his daughter, he spent looking for a job that would allow him to be close to her, but Mr. Walker said that was not necessary yet, that he should be on the lookout for his family.  
As for Harry, Zayn missed him in an unimaginable way, for some nights he felt him escape from bed to go around the room, and, when he tried to touch him, he would drive him away; that being when he just wanted to hug him, because when he wanted to have more intimacy, Harry put a pillow barrier between them. During the day, he gave him a quick kiss after breakfast and retreated to where only his god knew he was going, as he didn't tell him anything.  
By the time Daisy was four months old, Zayn had already got a job, and, given Harry seemed so far away, had decided to release the good news over dinner.  
James Walker was at the head of the table, selflessly chopping the fruit dessert, while Harry did not take his eyes off his phone. Anne, for her part, could have no more interest in interacting with them than what a book wanted to read himself. Zayn cleared his throat, to which everyone, even the butlers, turned.

"I got news today. Good news” Zayn take from his sack a phone, opening it quickly in a file. “Western High School has accepted me as a new master of History and English; they will be waiting for me early tomorrow to give me a tour of the facility.”

They all kept quiet for several minutes, only devoting themselves to watch him. Harry, who had picked up the phone, frownede until he got his eyebrows looking like a single line over his eyes.

"Didn't you think to tell me before? In private? "His tone was annoying.  
"It's good news, I thought it would be nice to share it with everyone at the same time.”

  
"And you barely have time to say good morning to me before you ran away," he wanted to said, but he squeezed his lips so the bad thoughts would not come out.  
James smiled halfway before he started talking.

"It's good that you got such a respectable job, Zayn. But remember to make time on Fridays.”  
"But that's when I go to the mosque.”

Anne sighed heavily, instructing the butler to remove her plate.

"You see, Zayn, all three of us are very busy people. James has to be in constant work with his company, I'm his right-hand, and Harry has to learn the trade to take care of the company some day” Zayn opened his eyes as big as possible, because that’s why his boyfriend had been away so long. “Friday afternoons have been the only days we have found free to go to church.”  
"Why do you want to go to church?”  
"We all have to go for a month before the christening, of course.”  
"Do a baptize?" Zayn turn to see Harry, who looked uncomfortable in his place. “I didn't know you were planning that.”  
"Well," Anne kept talking, staring at James to get his support. “If we want Daisy to be a good Catholic, we have to start with baptism, don't you think? We must not wait until she is, well, one of your type.”

Anne's sweet, soft voice was calm, despite the poison that each word entailed. Zayn, for his part, was tense; felt he was short of breath and could not help but look at Harry, who hid from his gaze as he saw everything but him. He felt the courage in his throat, burning.

"Daisy will profess Islam just as I do. That's the least I can expect after all.”  
"The last you could wait for? We've given you everything. I don't want my only granddaughter tied up to be someone's fifth wife, with a stupid rag tied on her head so no one can see her.”  
"Daisy doesn't...”  
"That's not how it's going to be. Daisy will inherit all this one day, and she won't be able to do it if she belongs to a religion that bombs different countries because "her god" doesn't admit anyone else. It's not how things are done. She'll be a Catholic girl as always been done.”

Zayn felt the knot in his throat was going to blow him up. No matter how much he looked for his partner, Harry seemed to be out of his body, without supporting him. James didn't seem to be of help to Anne either, but she defended herself with everything in her hands. Anger burst into his body.

"Things are done? You are not royalty, no Lords or counts or whoever you believe yourself. You are just a sad woman who married someone rich so him could buy you a castle; no matter how much you want to be someone else.”  
"How dare you?” Anne got up from the table so she could surround it and stand in front of him. “Don't think that just because you filled my son's belly I can't get you out of here. With your weird ideas and your constant plans with the other Muslims, surely planning to attack my home.”  
"Who thinks that?”  
"Three days ago there was an attack of Islamites on the London train, how can I know it wasn't you? I can take you to the authorities and...”  
"You has to be crazy if you thinks that just because I belong to Islam, I'd do something like that. You are nothing more than a sad and bitter lady who lives in...”

Anne's certain palm hit him fully on the left cheek. Zayn could feel the burning and tears coming down his face. He saw Harry's parents retreat from the dining room, followed by the butler, all as her boyfriend get up from his place staring at him before hi was gone.  
Zayn retreated to the shared room, waiting for his boyfriend, which arrived after midnight.

"I don't want you to sleep here tonight” Harry didn't even look at him.  
"You said Daisy could profess my religion, no matter what.”  
"Zayn, I don't want to talk about it, not right now.”  
"Harry, you promised. You swore to me.”  
"Zayn, you insulted my mother. You yelled at her in front of everyone and disrespected her; not only to her, but also to me” Zayn couldn't believe the resentment with which Harry was talking to him.  
"She insulted me; Insult my religion, my people. My father.”  
"It's just a stupid religion, who the fuck cares?”  
"I care, Harry, and a lot. It's part of who I am, who I'll be, and I'll never stop being.”  
"Like being a teacher, right? Didn't you think it would be important to me, too? Comment on our future?”

Zayn laughs bitterly; felt as the tears re-accumulated.

"Says that one who could not even mention the reason why he walked away every morning without a dam word, so you could "inherit" your father's company.”  
"I did it so our daughter could have a good quality of life.”  
"Sure, and I can't help with that? With my miserable salary and my stupid religion?”

Harry had the face red of the anger that caromed him. His hands in fists so he can punch anything. 

"I'm sick of defending you. You, your ideas, everything. My parents always tell me you're not a good guy, and I'm starting to think you are.”  
"And am I not good for the religion I profess? Because of my skin color?” Harry walked away from him, but Zayn followed, he wanted to hear it from his own voice “because of my family's financial position?”  
"I'm sick of everything. To have to choose between you and my family... you...”  
"Don't choose, I didn't ask you.”  
"But you do; all the time you want to have an opinion on everything and my parents hate it, they hate you and I'm tired of it"  
"I just want to be a part of my daughter's life. It's not much, is it? An hour or two a day and the rest of the time he's with the nanny, because “that's how they do it, as it's always been done"” Harry walked away, covering up his ears. “You were raised like that too, would it have bothered you so much to be the son of someone mediocre? Someone of color? Why you don't better tell in my face what you think? that I'm not enough, that you hate the life I've dragged you into.”  
"Shut up. Shut up.”  
"Why Harry? Are you afraid I'll say anything about Allah at dinnertime? Than I will plant a bomb in the library while everyone's there? Look at north to pray the four times that correspond? Don't you want my daughter to celebrate the Ramadan? Eid Mubarek?”  
"God, you're despicable. I'm so glad Daisy didn't inherit your horrible skin color, or eyes. I'm so glad she doesn't look like you. And I'll be glad she didn't profess your stupid religion.”

Zayn stopped, looking at his boyfriend who breathed irregularly. Something in his heart hurt a lot; Zayn was used to everyone speaking ill of him, all but Harry.  
Everything was silent for a long time.

"You didn't mean that. You're angry, you're not...”  
"I don't want you sleeping here today. Not tomorrow. Not within a month” Harry turned his back on him to head to the closet and start throwing his clothes at him. “I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear your voice. I don't love you.”  
"Harry you're angry, you're not...”  
"I'm angry, Zayn. God dammit, I'm sick of everything and you just come to criticize me. If you don't want my life then go and do what you want; but don't expect me to be there. I'm tired of everything and want to sleep; I don't want to have to choose between you or my parents because if I have to, then...”

He was silent in the middle of the sentence; he was crying, but when Zayn tried to touch him, Harry punched him away; he opened the door waiting for Zayn to come out and, when he did, the curly one whip the big wood door on his nose.  
Zayn could feel his heart squeezing into his chest with incipient pain. He remained outside the room for a long time; crying, waiting for his boyfriend to open the door, but it didn't pass, not for hours, so when the early morning hit him, a maid offered him a room to rest, yet he declined with all the kindness left in his body, so he could to walk to his parents' new apartment.  
His mother opened the door for him and let him rest in the visits room. When he awoke, her little sister, Safah, told him that he had slept for a whole day, but that it was okay, that she was there to help him. And she did; the teen arranged for his cotton suit to go to high school the next day, because, having arrived late, he had to be comfortable to receive the directors' scolding.  
When Zayn was on his first day of school as teacher, a week after the disaster with Harry. He let himself feel all the years on the earth weight on him as he saw the teenagers scream and make a fuss, as the most daring students flirted with him. The only good thing about all that was that he managed to get distracted by planning classes and grading assignments; this occupied most of his days and weekends, so his runaways to the mosque had slowed down, and in some way the through of his daughter and boyfriend "or is he an ex-boyfriend now?".

"Zayn, I know you don't want to talk about this, and I respect it," his father came up to the table, where he was having breakfast. “But Beta, it's not good that you keep your secrets, they hurt you, and Harry must be very concerned” a bitter laugh come out of his lips “haven't you talked to Harry?”  
"Baba, I forgot my phone in that huge castle. Harry hasn't tried to look for me, and I certainly don't think he will.”  
"Beta...” his father, with difficulty from the wheelchair, took him in his arms with great care "what happened?”

Without much encouragement to tell the story, Zayn told his father the most relevant details of everything that had happened in the great castle. From his arrival in that huge room to the fight for his religion.  
His father was silent and kissed his head, saying that the toughest decisions came with the greatest loves when the differences were many. Soon his mother arrived demanding to know the story that was making them cry.  
Two weeks passed in his parents’ apartment, time he alternate his free time with school homework and helping her little sister do everything she need; sometimes accompanying his mother for a dress or something that would make her look different from the other women she frequented; helped in household duties, from time to time, his father would ask him for help in making the complicated Pakistan meals that her grandmother used to do as she said that a meal made with love was always helpful. 

"Zainie we'll go to dinner at a fancy restaurant because that's what I want for my birthday," Safah hugged him in the back as she said it. “So please, no long faces and bring a nice gift.”  
"What makes you think I didn't buy anything?”  
"I checked your room and there's nothing.”  
"Safah!”

His little sister stuck out her tongue before leaving the kitchen to continue her routine. Zayn was sure that there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do for the girl who was going to turn 17, nothing. But Daisy's memory invaded the rest of his day, while shopping and school, as he wondered if he would do the same for his daughter as for her little sister, would grow up to be just as energetic and beautiful as Safah?  
His heart felt locked in a small room when he arrived at the restaurant where his family expected him; they had a table on the outside, so their sister's delicate dress undulated in the wind when she saw him coming. She made a strange sound while smashed the purple paper of the gift to discover a book “Shakespeare's Plays," and a blouse full of blue sequins.

"Zayn, the blouse is fantastic, I can't wait to be invited to a party to wear it. But the book... smh, remember that not all word are like you” his sister's hand gave him little slaps.  
"And you should know that reading is good for your brain, dwarf.”  
  
His parents laughed without meddled in their children's argument.  
The dinner passed between jazz music and the constant surprise photographs that Safah took of everyone while they ate or chatted with each other, always complaining that she wished to drink with them.  
It wasn't until dessert that everything was ruined; her sister was telling the story of how a girl in her class had made a fool of herself in the dining room because her food tray had ended up over the boy she liked, when a very deep voice called his name from the back. His parents were silent, indicating with his eyes that he must turn; Harry was standing behind him, wearing a coat, down it a brown sweater that folded his size, he had bags in his eyes and seem very thin, not in his usual Playboy state. 

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Malik...," he gestured with his hand before bowing his head toward his sister. “Safah, happy birthday. I'm sorry I didn't bring any gifts, I didn't know you were going to something, on the contrary here I would have bring something.”

Harry squeezed his red lips too hard before releasing the air inside to turn to the brunette. 

“Zayn, hi.”  
"Good night, Harry," Zayn didn't make the slightest effort to turn him or rise.  
"Zayn, can we talk?”  
"I have nothing to talk to you about.

Safah saw him sternly before pushing his hand to speak in his ear.

"Go with him. I'll take it as a birthday present.”  
"But I already gave you a present.”  
"As second gift, then. Now go” Zayn look at his parents, who smiled.  
"We’ll paid the bill, honey," his mother looked so calm. “Harry, it was nice to see you.”

Reluctantly, Zayn get up from the table to see Harry in the eye. Up close he looked even worse, but let him led the way to the parking lot, where he rest himself in a random car, hugging himself. His eyes were full of tears.

"What did you want to talk about?”  
"I wanted to... I wanted to apologize. I know the last time we where together I said horrible things and...”  
"Yes, you did. You kicked me out of your house.”  
"Zayn..." Harry was hyperventilating.  
"It's okay if you don't want to see me again. But this would we whole lot easier, easier for me, if we didn't see each other again.”  
"But... But... I don't want to. Zayn, I don't want to...”  
"Harry, I don't want to make you choose between me and your parents. I'm never going to win” the curler had a soggy face. “You came with them, didn't you? Or... are you with someone?” The mere thought of Harry dating some else make Zayn wanted to throw up.  
"No, no, of course not. Zayn, I want to talk to you. That night, that night I was tired and you just recriminated things to me and started attacking me, saying that I didn't love you and I was on my parents' side...”  
"You're always on your parents' side.”  
"That's not the point... I thought you were going to go to another room and I could talk to you in the morning... explain things, but you weren't there; at your parents' house there was an Asian couple who kicked me out and your phone was in our room... I couldn't find a way to contact you. You didn't answer my emails, Instagram messages or any other media where I wanted to talk to you, or...” in that moment, Harry break completely. 

Harry was a sea of uncontrollable tears and messy curls that he hugged himself, and while Zayn felt a lot of resentment, he could never see the curly one in that state without trying to reassure him, so he hugged him, letting him cry whatever he had to cry about..  
As was his custom, Zayn opened the coat to get in the warmth of Harry, but he stopped when he felt stiffness in the abdomen of the curly one.

"What are you wearing, Harry?” the curly looked to the ground as Zayn opened up the shirt to find a sash. “You can't use this; Harry...”  
"It's the postpartum sashes... it's for... for” Zayn removed the garment to throw it aside, exposing the soft skin.  
"You're not supposed to wear them that long” with quick hands, Zayn closed the shirt “If you want to do abs it's ok, but...”  
"Do you think it's repulsive?" Harry try to cover his belly with his arms.  
"What? No, Harry, of course not, you are... Always... I could never see you any other way than beautiful; not only on the outside, but also on the inside.”  
"Then why do you want me to do abs?”

Zayn hold him close, kissing Harry’s hair. He felt bad for making Harry bad, because he couldn't help noticing how thin he was, how gaunt he looked. That couldn't be the first time Harry cried, and he knew deep within his being, that he was to blame for his condition.

"It's not that, I would never ask you to do something you don't want. But if you want your abdomen to be firm, you must exercise, not keep wearing the stupid sash, it could cause you incontinence or back problems, and you already have enough problems in your back, or, or I don't know” Harry had a look of taunting and fun mixed in his eyes. “I read a lot of books about pregnancies.”

Harry laughs sweetly before weeping again and hugging the brunette.  
They spent enough time together for the cold to puff them.

"I don't want you to choose between me and your parents, Harry. I couldn't put you back in that position” the curly one didn't say anything, just embrace harder “Don't you want to go to dinner with them? you’re not hungry?” He denied. “Harry, you want to come with me?” then he nodded. “All right, wait here, I need to let my parents know...”  
"Don't go. Zayn, I don't... Don't go.”  
“Ok...”

Zayn toke his phone out of his pocket to send a message to his younger sister, so they knew he'd be going back to the apartment in one car per app.

"Did you buy a new phone?”  
"That's right. I needed one for my new job" Harry hugged him tighter “don't you'll let your parents know you're going with me?”

Harry sent a message reluctantly before the car arrived. On the way home he stayed very close to him, always holding his hand, until they reached the apartment and Zayn directed him to his room after offering him a cup of tea. Sitting on the bed he looked very small.

"How's Daisy?”  
"Good... growing up. I always talk to her about you; I call you baba, as you do with your father” Harry had stopped crying, but keep looking very sad.  
"I thought the babysitter was in charge of helping her talk.”  
"Not anymore; I spend most of the day with her. Reminds me of you. He's got your eyes, and your nose.”

Zayn sat on the window sill, trying to put as much distance as possible with Harry, who was biting his lips furiously and squeezed the quilt in his hands. It felt as if his heart was in Harry's hands, being squeezed until he could no more.

"Why didn't you come back?" Harry was barely whispering; one could hear the wind run more than his voice.  
"You said you didn't want to see me, no in a day or never, so I left. I thought it would be easier this way” Harry was clearly frustrated as he passed his fists over his face.  
"It's not the first time we've fought and I'm telling you I don't want to see you again, Zayn. You were always there to me so I could apologize, to sort things out. It wasn't the first time...”  
"You've never insulted me like that before. Not in a racist way.”  
"I was angry.”  
"That doesn't justify your words. And even if things had been different, would you still want Daisy to profess Islam?” Harry shut up. “I don't blame you for loving your parents, for let them in our daughter's life, but I'd like you to have your own ideas about the world... about me..”  
"But I have them, Zayn... I love you the way you are.”  
"Sometimes love is not enough.”

He get up from the sift to walk to Harry and kneel in front of him. Taking his hands and kiss them.

"We can make this work without being together, Harry. Daisy can profess whatever she decides when she's old enough. We don't have to be together to...”  
"But I want you to be there; wake up with you and change diapers. Kissing you in the mornings and yelling at you because you always leave the diary dishes on the table or you don't take out the trash and help me in the kitchen; I want you to get angry and then make love to me and...”  
"Harry, no... What about your parents?  
"James accepts you; he thinks he should apologize for judging you and are proud that you have a good job, as a teacher or salesperson in the market or wherever. He accepts you.”  
"And your mother?" Harry tightened her lips tightly. “She loves you more than anything in the world, Harry, and there's nothing she hates more than me or my religion.”

Harry lifted him up with a single tug of hands so he could hug him comfortably. To lie him on the bed and hug him as they had so often done.

"Then we will not return to the castle.”  
"Do you want to live with my parents now?”  
"No, no. James still wants me to inherit the company or whatever, and he keeps paying me as if I worked for him, the money’s nothing extraordinary or greater than a new employer, but with that and your job, we can afford a house. We can live together. They can't wait for my to live under they roof all my life.”  
"I thought you will inherit the castle too," Zayn felt a punch to his chest. “Okay, okay, but what about Daisy?”  
"We can afford a babysitter for working hours, and when she’s older, I can take her to the office, everyone's going to love her.”  
"What about baptism?  
“We will baptize her when she turns one, and she can come with you to the mosque whenever she wants. She can profess the two religions or neither; she'll do whatever she wants.”  
"Do you have an answer for everything?”  
"Apparently I have to, with how hard-headed you are.”

Zayn laugh; for the first time in a long, long time, he managed to feel his heart beating normally, with nothing squeeze it or wanting to pull it from his chest.

_**Two years later**_

"You shouldn't be carrying heavy things," Zayn take a huge box out of Harry's hands.  
"Well, if you'd help me organize the baby's room more, I wouldn't have to be moving heavy boxes.”

Harry settled his hair behind his ears; he was six months gestation and his stomach seemed about to burst. He was grumpy most of the time and having Daisy running around his feet didn't help him relax. The little girl suffered from uncontrollable jealousy despite loving the idea of a new brother or sister.

"If you wanted us to have another baby, at least you should have thought about not putting your studio in the extra room.

Zayn led Harry to the couch by the crib. All the baby's stuff was light yellow, for this time he had convinced Harry not to reveal the sex of the infant.  
Daisy ran into the room to jump into Harry's lap and rub his belly; she liked the feeling of her future brother or sister kicking. Behind her, James and Zayn’s father, both covered in sweat and purple paint, because, they where painting Daisy’s room so she would not feel completely displaced, they arrange a complete remodeling to her.

“Beta, Harry; Anne and Trisha say we must get down before the food gets cold.”  
"I hope Mom didn't put too much salt on things," Harry got up very difficulty, pushing Daisy with his knee to get ahead. “My feet are killing me. The baby is horrible; I've gained at least ten pounds and everything bothers me, what I least need is for my legs to swell more.”

Both men laughed before taking the girl to the kitchen. Although Anne did not fully like her son's new way of life, she kept her opinions very deep down to be close to Harry and his granddaughter; there was something about the little girl who managed to conquer everyone, and Zayn suspected that it was because she looked a lot like her father, always beating her eyelashes to get away with everything or dancing while eating.  
Harry stopped short on the door to return to the closet and take a pink blanket from the top of the closet; pull it so hard that the things below fell to the ground in a dull noise. Zayn rushed to lift things up, so Harry wouldn’t have to bend down, but he wasn't fast enough to keep the curly from seeing the little blue box.

"What is this?" Harry take the little box in his hands to start spinning it “is it a gift? There's still a long way to long to my birthday, Zainie beinie..”

Safah ran into the room, screaming that they needed to help her as the white paint was spilling into the bathroom. When she saw the box, she covered her mouth with her eyes wide open, which was a sign so Harry could see that under the white ribbon, blackletters says "Tiffany & C.O." .

“Zayn...”  
"I wanted to give it to you after the childbirth... I guess now, well...”  
"This must have cost you a fortune.”  
"And so it was," Safah came over to open the box and reveal a classic engagement ring. “It took hours in London to pick the most common ring, and Zayn only bought my an ice cream for having accompanied it. I told him that he should buy the diamond in the shape of a heart or in pink, but he insisted on the boring and classic.”  
"I had to save money a few years to give you the blue box you've always dreamed of.”

Harry placed the ring on his finger before he started crying and going to hug him, cursing as soon as his stomach prevented him from the act. Zayn hugged him in the back, handing out kisses and admiring the beautiful ring in his now-fiancé's hand.

"I'll look huge at the wedding...”  
"We can wait until after Beinie is born.”  
"I don’t want to wait that long... James said that if you propuse out before the third child, he paid for the wedding; I am going to take him at his word. I want flowers, lots of flowers. I want to wear a red Kurta with gold for the mosque, and in the church a white suit with golden flowers. Daisy may be the flower girl next to Farha and Tariq. And the bridesmaids can be Waliya and Safah and... And...”

Harry began to cry and try to hug Zayn again, cursing the pregnancy for make him become so sentimental.

_**End**_


End file.
